


The Break

by Baconesque



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4858076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baconesque/pseuds/Baconesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An awful day turned out to be not that much of one, at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Break

_Everybody_  hates extra working hours.

To make the point more persuasive, Scott Summers could assure you, that was, unfortunately, true.

Scott wasn’t into working. Although from past bosses and colleagues, he seemed to have been labeled as he was. He’d received, whether face to face or accidentally overheard, comments like “diligent”, “industrious”, “dedicated” or simply “a fine colleague/employee/guy”, basically every possible way to avoid saying “workaholic” or “nerd”. Maybe it was his intrinsic good nature and cordial personality that made people unlikely to shit on him behind the curtains, like they normally would do to the rare ones who were just diligent enough to made them look like slackers. But Scott was not like that. He too,  _didn’t_  like the concept of hours of late night working in front of a fucking computer which was emitting dazzling white glows that showed your half lidded eyes in an almost mocking manner. He just liked to make things perfect. It was simply a part of his perfectionist quality.

And okay, according to Logan, that  _was_  the marked nature of a typical workaholic.

But Scott had pointed out the man himself was, it seemed, not loafing around at the timber mill either. Logan would frequently come home with sweat dripping down his hair and clothes like he had rushed through a downpour, even when it wasn’t in the dog days. “that’s different,” Logan had grumbled, “oh? what’s the difference?” he had inquired with genuine curiosity, but his answer remained undisclosed.

Scott groaned at the thought of his boyfriend.

Because at this hour, he could almost smell the malty scent of beer in their living room where the said boyfriend was tucked himself comfortably in their large and soft sofa, taking swigs while watching boxing. or baseball. Whatever, and then turning his head to smirk at the sound and sight of a literally drained Scott Summers, a few teasing was possibly included, which Scott was often too tired to even retort or get pissed.

And this situation had been on since, two weeks ago.

Scott sighed heavily.

Like per usual, after the intensive working, excruciating driving, grueling smiley hellos and how’s goings to the exceedingly friendly old lady in their building he’d somehow magically always bumped into, even in this fucking hour. He now felt like shit. And thirsty.

The elevator dinged, he raised his head instinctively, and then tramped out of the cage, through the narrow corridor, and finally, in front of his own door.

He fumbled with the keys in his pocket, turned the lock open with sluggish hands. And yes, just as he figured, he was welcomed by the exclaims of an agitated commentator.

He dropped his heavy messenger bag on the porch, kicked off his shoes, walked to the fridge with slightly friskier footwork, took out the huge, now suddenly extra charming bottle, and took a big, pleasant, refreshing gulp of icy water.

He almost felt better. Almost.

By the sofa, Logan was half lying on the cushions, shirtless, beer in hand, gazing at the swift motions of the games on the TV screen in a strangely aloof fashion, which indicated a rare instance—the man didn't very into the game. He sat up to make room for Scott as he approached the sofa, without even turning to look at him.

Somehow, although he wouldn’t going to admit, but it was the sight of the older man that made the weight on his shoulder that he carried since this morning, finally dropped.

Scott didn’t say a word, either, he collapsed onto the sofa beside Logan, and let out a long held groan.

“shitty day?” after a long pause, Logan inquired.

“you have no idea.”

Logan turned to look at him, Scott lazily shifted his head to face the other man as well.

His features were then being caressed by a large, calloused hand.

Scott voluntarily leaned into the familiar warm touch.

“c’mere.”

Logan gently pulled him into his arms. Scott collapsed again, this time into the older man’s chest. He was once again embraced by the hard-muscled and almost unnaturally hot body of the older man, along with ticklish chest hair against his cheek. He couldn’t help but sighed, a little bit too contentedly for his liking, at the soothing scent of the mixture of shampoo and tobacco and  _Logan_.

It immediately made him feel better like prescription drugs.

That of course, was a rhetorical figure of speech. He never did any kind of those.

“Wanna talk?”

The older man’s deep baritone rumbled against his hair. He shook his head, which was a slight twist due to his position.

“not much to talk ‘bout. Just Xavier has been pushing himself, and of course, me, really hard for days. He seemed to had another fight with his  _asshole_  boyfriend _._ ” he slurred almost inaudibly. Feeling slightly awkward with his position, he lifted and curled his legs, lying on the sofa on his side with his upper body on the older man’s lap, head burrowed in the older man’s chest.

“Why? you know the guy?”

His sofa and Logan’s embrace was almost too comfortable for his exhausted body, He couldn’t help but drifted off for a while, didn’t answer Logan’s question until the other man stroked his hair tenderly as he stirred, and asked again.

“...uh, well, not really. Charles doesn’t bring Erik up often. I did see him once with Charles at the cafeteria. He seemed nice. But I don’t care. The guy’s responsible for my miserable life now. That makes him an asshole anyway.”

Logan chuckled. “And why does their little fight has anything to do with Charles pushing you?”

“dunno. But for some inexplicable reason, Charles seems to think you’re a nice guy. I don’t even know where the fuck he got that  _erroneous_ impression but yeah, I could tell he’s at least kinda jealous that my boyfriend isn’t making me nuts, which is, also erroneous.”

Logan snickered more suggestively, “yeah, I am  _very capable_  of making you nuts.”

Scott elbowed the older man. The latter only chuckled a bit too smugly in response.

“what, am I  _not_  the nice and good boyfriend?”

Scott tried to lift his head to glare at Logan, but discarded the thought half way through when he realized how heavy his head was. Instead, he snorted.

“huh?” Logan grumbled.

“nothing,” Scott let out a light chuckle at the man’s mocking, or perhaps genuinely disgruntled reaction, “just uh, yeah, I guess you’re passed for an  _okay_  boyfriend, when you’re not driving me crazy. But sometimes you and Erik are just pot and kettle. Sometimes you  _were_  pretty damn annoying.”

He regretted a little when Logan didn’t response for a second, as if the man was taking it more seriously than Scott was intended to.

But yeah, sometimes, just sometimes, when Logan was being...Logan, Scott did feel utterly frustrated.

He sighed, and then caressed the man’s chest lightly as a silent apology, trying to lighten the mood.

“so, uh, boring game huh? It’s not often to see you not cursing or wooing the players.”

“nah,” the large hand previously rubbing his shoulder was now drifted to his back. “just...kinda late now. and I had enough games this week.” the older man cleared his throat, but his voice was somehow even more husky and small. “Was planning to watch that fox cartoon movie you liked with you if you came back early. I was flipping through the channels and found it was on Netflix.”

And that’s when Scott began to feel bad. As he came to really think of it, he was, indeed, hadn’t spent some time other than sleeping with Logan for weeks. He’d had to get up when Logan was in the midst of his dreams, and came back when he could only share a few kisses with Logan before shower and crash face first onto their bed. It had been for a while.

Scott knew Logan wasn’t a man who were apt to touchy-feely—he wasn’t, mind you, but he also understood that even a man like him had limits. He never told, but Scott knew. He knew that in the past six mouths, Logan had gotten used to the presence of Scott Summers in his life. That he’d casually, nonchalantly, asking Scott to come with him when he was feeling up to go to the Yankee stadium for some games, or Black Keys was touring in New York. Scott would also casually, nonchalantly, said that he happened to don’t have any plans either, and took out his phone to cancel everything with a small, upward arch on the corner of his mouth, when Logan wasn’t around. He was okay if Logan still felt weird with the notion of “date” even if they were already living together for months.

Having the knowledge of the man’s terrible, terrible past still wasn’t easy to swallow. He knew too well it was hard for Logan to once again deal with, let alone trust, or even care for others after what he had been through. It really was not something he could easily forget, when Logan deadpanned his battered memories to him, while Scott couldn’t help but envision those dreadful scenes by the man’s almost monochromatic delivery about covert operations and tortures. When he was there, witness a man as tough as Logan to taking off his cold mask, exposing ugly cuts and scars under his skin with stifled hisses. He remembered when it came to Kayla, the older man’s voice was still unconcerned, as if he was reciting some insipid story he read on newspaper, but those knotted brows and hard features that were once associated with rage and ferocity, was diluted by a tiny stain of involuntarily tear that were trickling down stubbly cheeks, into nothing but muted pain and sorrow.

It wasn’t something delicate or touching. Logan was a total wreck underneath. A thorny, nasty, and hard one. he tried to quench his sympathy, to just pat the man on the shoulders with an ‘I’m sorry’ and back the fuck off. Because Scott couldn’t afford to go deeper. it was way out of his depth, a fucking lost cause. he couldn’t possibly understand what it feels like to being completely betrayed by the people you trusted most, to having your lover died in your arms, let alone to fix it. But another part of him, which happened to be a pretty dominating part, couldn’t deny the trust Logan had put in him, or his eagerness to not to let the man down, not to let those gruesome past take toll on the older man ever again.

And thankfully, by now, Scott thought he did, at least manage to handle it quite well.

“Technically, Fantastic Mr. Fox is not a cartoon. It’s called stop-motion. And it’s a great movie.” shook those tough days aside, he snorted, tenderly, feeling the roll of eyes Logan gave him, and then shifted to whisper at the older man’s ear, “you’ll like it. we can watch it together another time. C’mon,  _good boyfriend,_  let’s go to bed.”

He was expecting the smirk, but he was not expecting Logan to suddenly stood up, gently hauled him into his arms, and carried him to the bathroom.

“...okay,” he said, a little bit breathlessly, “wow,  _fine_ , I’m impressed, but I can walk. In case of you don’t know.”

“yer putting on weight,” Logan only grumbled as he reached the bathroom, and discreetly lay Scott down in the tub.

“not everybody has time to workout as often as you do.” he retorted, while shot an envious glare at the shirtless man. How did he manage to drinking beers daily and having full time job while still keeping a Men’s Fitness cover guy standard body was still a wonder to Scott.

And then Scott reminded himself that Logan was a  _lumberjack._

There were times, when Scott was a bit drunk, or Logan was too annoying, or both, Scott would run wild in his brain. and just accidentally, he’d trod on a dark, messy puddle of absolutely ludicrous thoughts. it’d splash an ugly damp on his shoe. And if he bent to look at it, it’d often read something like  _Summers, you’re just like the alternative version of those fat old perverts who allure pretty boys into their bed with money, except you’re doing the exact opposite._

Of course, that wasn’t true. Logan want him and trust him. And he knew first hand how hard Logan worked for his relatively slender salary, how it killed the other man that he was on the receiving end of benefits that he had no choice but accept if he wanted to live with Scott.

But truth be told, technically, he  _was_  paying most of the bills, his boyfriend  _was_  ten years older than him, and the man  _was_ , indeed, sex on legs.

...Still, it may had explained the arms, but lumberjacks didn’t wield axes with their abs. or asses. The mystery was yet to be solved.

Logan turned on the faucet with his hand under it to test the temperature, and then stood up to exit the bathroom.

“what, you’re not going to  _wash_  me?” Scott teased lazily. It was really nice to finally have hot water running down his sore muscles.

Logan turned his head to snort at him, “I am being nice, Summers, not a babysitter.”

Scott only giggled as Logan disappeared in the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of the TV snapped shut. Then there were the sounds of Logan cleaning the living room with crisp tings as beer cans hitting trashcan and clatters of a few light switch being hit by a strong finger, then the soft padding of bare feet on wooden floor moved from living room to their bedroom.

When Scott finished his shower, stepped into their bedroom with towel wrapped around his waist, Logan was already in his boxers, lying on their bed with one arm pillowed his head, the other hand tapping on his phone. muscular legs spread a little as he was reading something from the screen. The soft white glow of it lit his features, with the diffuse light from the bedside lamp served as an amber colored reflection. He turned his head a little at the footsteps of Scott, a warm, small smile lifted from the corner of his mouth.

Maybe it was the grueling day, or maybe he was just too tired, but at this moment, Scott thought it was the most comforting picture he had ever seen.

He couldn’t help but grinned back.

The other man dropped his phone on the nightstand immediately when he stepped close. He was then being attacked with coarse stubble and soft lips on his own the moment the back of his head hit the pillow.

Scott groaned when he realized this wasn’t a simple goodnight kiss as Logan slowly covered his body with his own. He raised his drooping hand to comb through Logan’s thick hair while scrambling to return the other man’s heating kisses.

“ummm...uh, s-stop Logan, I’m gonna—” he grumbled as Logan’s tongue started to demanding entrance, and he had to pull at the man’s hair when the first spark of heat flared in his lower belly.

“what?” the older man’s hoarse voice was irresistibly inviting like his hungry eyes, looking down at him with his brownish hazel iris illuminated by the lamp glow into an even lighter shade of brown. Scott was a hair close to pulling him back down and sucking hungrily on his tongue, but he had to stop.

“if you keep kissing me like that I’m going to get hard.” Scott murmured with an almost rueful, but mostly exhausted smile. “but I’m just too tired to fool around. I’m fucked. figuratively. Not really in the mood to make it literally.” he tilted his head to press a brief kiss on the older man’s lower lip. “can we just...sleep? I’ll make it up to you when all this shit is over. I promise.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Logan slurred, he rolled his hips, causing their groins to rub together, Scott helplessly hitched his breath.

“you know it’d be like hours of prep if you want it painless,” Scott shut his eyes, trying to fight the urge to arch his hips to meet the other man. “judging by the state I’m in, I really can’t promise you I won’t fall asleep during the pro—ah, damn it, Logan. stop.”

The other man didn’t answer him. Instead, wet, open-mouthed kisses traced a sloppy path from his neck to his chest, gently enclosed around one nipple, soft tongue teased with the sensitive bud for a moment, just before Scott could manage another protest from the soft moan it elicited, it had already moved on. The path continued downward into his groin, hot breath and coarse stubble suddenly invaded into the most sensitive part of his anatomy. before he could realize what’s happening, his cock was engulfed by a familiar heat, straight down to the hilt.

If he still hadn’t rock hard from the carnal maneuver Logan had skillfully performed, the sensation of his cock head hit the velvet muscle at the back of the older man’s throat definitely nailed it.

God  _damnit_.

He almost felt he could come without fully erect. really. It was just too fast, too abrupt. it was not like he was oblivious of the impending sequence, he just wasn’t  _prepared_ for it. His dick was still kinda limp from the two stoic weeks, the poor organ was still filling itself when pleasure rammed through. His mouth demanded him to scream, but as the blood to his brain was being forced to took a drastic downward turn, all he carried out was a dry, stifled yelp.

The mouth started to pumping smoothly on his flesh, intense stimulation flooded his tired, flagging nerves. He didn’t even have the strength to arch his hips or thrust into the silky heat. He tilted his head to helplessly looked down, watching the older man’s head bobbling in a lazy rhythm, as if he was taking his time. Callused hands gently holding his legs apart, his thighs looked almost girlishly thin compared to the large palms perched on it.

He did manage to squirm a little. Partly because he was a bit embarrassed, partly because he was really, really close, which was also quite embarrassing. he was tired, but less than roughly three minutes was nevertheless going to earn him  _a lot of_  teasing afterwards. but then, just as he was about to shot his load down Logan’s throat, the tight suction disappeared.

Scott wasn’t sure whether he should thank Logan or throw the desk clock beside him at his face. He needed to fucking  _come,_   _goddamnit._  One of the things Scott hated most about the man was that he could actually  _stop_ during sex, when Scott was being reduced into a writhing mess, and didn’t really care to begging for the man to continue.

But thank god, this time Logan didn’t intend to torture him. A moment later, a soft, wet tongue swept a hot trail down his length. Logan had a wet mouth. he could feel the tickling mixture of saliva and precome licked down his erection, his balls, all the way to his perineum, dangerously close to his sensitive opening.

That didn’t really matter, though, when Logan gave his balls a few quick lick, then attacked the fluttering little pucker with his tongue.

Scott first found the concept of rimjob was, to be completely honest, pretty gross. But just as many things Logan had changed in his life, it soon became an instant favorite since the memorable night, where a fully clothed, just-came-from-work and, particularly horny Logan interrupted his shower, plundered his mouth, regardless of water from the shower head cascading down to soak his hair and plaid shirt, before went down to his knees, parted his cheeks, and brought him to one of the most intense orgasm in his life by his tongue alone. He remembered when his forehead thumped on the tiles as Logan held him from collapsing, all he could think was those brand new knowledge that had just been stuffed into his brain. He never knew that when it comes to anal sex, licking and poking and—along with  _many_  other things—from a little piece of soft muscle could be just as good as hard, deep fucking. He never knew that in that area, Logan’s tongue would felt just as wonderful as his cock. And most importantly, why the  _hell_  he didn’t try it sooner.

Scott did manage to scream this time. He helplessly squirmed and clenched, but the hands on his thighs were demanding, holding him steady, and the tongue on—or in—his opening wasn’t any better. It scraped and plundered mercilessly at his sensitive ring of muscle and delicate inside, except it was too soft and slippery that it did nothing but making him wailing with pleasure. He grabbed Logan’s hair, hard, not sure whether he wanted the man to stop or fuck him harder with his hot, evil,  _wonderful_  tongue.

Logan chose the latter for him. He opened his mouth wider, and leaned just an inch closer. He cocked his head a little bit, shoved his tongue as much as possible inside Scott, and that sensation, along with coarse stubble grazing at his ring, plus a few pumping at his aching cock, quickly undid Scott.

When His breath was close to even, he dazed lazily, with a positively dopey grin on his face, as Logan withdrawn, sat up, raise his head to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, while shot Scott with a playful, half lidded glare. He reached out his shaky hand, wanted to do something about the bulge on the other man’s groin in return, but Logan merely wiped the come on his belly with his long forgotten towel, and lay on his side beside him instead.

“y’ don’t wanna...?” he asked, realized how coarse his voice was. he turned to his side as well, burrowed his face in Logan’s shoulder.

“don’t mind it,” Logan murmured, threw one heavy arm on his waist to gather him in, and then stroking leisurely at his back. “it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.”

“right,” He smirked softly, and let out a long sigh as the warm afterglow bathing him while started to taking away his consciousness. “okay, Mr. Howlett, I’m now officially consider you as a strong candidate of the boyfriend of the year.”

“I’ll remind you of that, smartass.” before he dived into the realm of darkness, he heard Logan snorted, and a pair of soft lips was later being pressed on his forehead.

Yeah, turned out, it wasn’t that awful a day after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first attempt to write a fic entirely in english, so i won't be surprised if you were stunned by the weird usage of words or grammar mistakes or corniness of the thing above. i felt like i need some straightforward fluff from my favorite pairing two days ago and well, here's the outcome.


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